Harry Rosenfeld: Reflecting on the life of a famous man

The following column was published following the death of Albany Mayor Erastus Corning 2nd on May 28, 1983.

In death, as in life, Erastus Corning had newspaper people scurrying around. When the news of his death came in a phone call from University Hospital in Boston before I p.m. Saturday our city editor shouted, “Corning is dead, Corning is dead

After a momentary, stunned pause in which one tried to assimilate this fateful news, the rushing began to implement plans laid down months ago. We were prepared for this story as we have been for few others, because he lay dying so long.

I last heard from the mayor myself shortly after my father died in January. In his own, now shaky hand, the mayor, terribly ill and debilitated, spent the effort to write a moving condolence letter, noting my father’s immigrant beginnings in this country and connecting the experience with what was happening here with present-day newcomers from Vietnam.
In that kind of gesture, one can read a part of Erastus Corning’s nature and personality as I had come to know him in my few years in Albany. First, he was to the occasion courtly and gracious. Second, he had a strong knowledge of history and understanding of it. He clearly saw himself and his day as part of a continuum, history in transition.

His knowledge of history was so wide that in conversation he would hold forth on aspects of American Colonial times that have not yet been treated in formal histories. He talked as if he yearned to turn his attention to such concerns. He expressed a desire to write about the origins of this country and why, at our earliest stage, we developed in the way we did. What was present in Erastus Corning’s unconsciousness, a listener to his discourse decided, was the insight that history was not predetermined, that all things might have been different than they were.

Distant history was not the mayor’s only long suit. His qualities as a raconteur really bloomed as he recounted the tales of the old politicos and how they played their parts in Albany. Not only were the anecdotes funny, they made the larger point that individual human idiosyncrasies make our times what they are.

In many cities there is a natural tension between incumbent mayor and the local newspaper. That is part of the game, given the distinct function and responsibilities of each. In Albany those tensions tended to be stronger because the newspapers so often found themselves decrying what the mayor was doing, and had been doing for long ‘ Absent a political opposition. in power for generations, the newspapers frequently were the only element to act as a check on excess.

Relations between the newspapers and the mayor were especially poor, even bitter, when the papers were still being published downtown. One story has it that we moved our plant from Sheridan Avenue to Wolf Road, which spurred the development of Colonie, because the Albany organization did not make it possible for the paper to continue publishing from its downtown site.

Whatever the past, in recent years even when we categorically, disagreed, the mayor kept a tone of civility and even warmth to us. And we, for our part tried to make sure that our criticisms were to a point and for a need, and not merely a knee-jerk reaction.

From time to time we would receive a letter of complaint from the mayor, frequently involving a matter of nature. We would have written a story about, or published a photograph of, a certain tree or flower, or animal. We would have made some sort of error in our weather chart, which he read daily with the closest attention. Invariably his complaint would be totally justified.

The mayor never complained about an interpretation of fact, only about error of fact, He clearly was sensitive to the distinction between the two, as few people are.

During his long, last illness, I saw the mayor twice, both times after he had written to invite me. Before receiving his call, I had refrained from imposing myself on his hospital regimen, lest that interfere with his treatment. But occasionally the mayor did think of our papers. Our chats at Albany Medical Center Hospital were brief, but during each the mayor focused on the future, on his plans and hopes for Albany, of trying new ventures and using fresh approaches. As I left the last time I saw him, he said, “Harry, we’re going to have some fun together.”

Before very long, all the things that can be said about Erastus Corning will be said. He will be praised for his tenure and his tenacity, for his wit and elegance, for the man he was and the man he might have been.

To us in Albany he has given texture to our lives, as much or more than any other political figure, including presidents and governors. The time is yet to come for new approaches and changes.

Today as we mourn Erastus Corning, we celebrate a famous life and praise a famous man. Some of the salt and the savor has departed from this community, it is good to spend a bit of time to reflect on what he was and what he meant to us all.

Harry Rosenfeld was editor of the Times Union. He is currently the Times Union Editor at Large and continues to sit on the newspaper’s editorial board and write a weekly column.